


Dear to Me

by mrwonderwoman (fem_castielnovak)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Barton is still a slut for affection, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fingering, Getting Together, Gift Giving, M/M, Making Love, Rimming, RomCom-esque nonsense, Romance, Valentine's Day, but then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/mrwonderwoman
Summary: For the ICC prompt:Valentines prompt: Either one totally forgot that it's going to be their first Valentines together, didn't of course prepare for it and tries frantically assemble something of the things at hand/ acquire flowers before running to the restaurant.





	1. Taken At the Flood

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt and original tumblr post can be found [here](https://imagineclintcoulson.tumblr.com/post/164610800959/valentines-prompt-either-one-totally-forgot-that)
> 
> Being a guest writer was a lot of fun and I encourage you to [sign up](https://imagineclintcoulson.tumblr.com/post/164574868861/imagineclintcoulson-guest-writer-application) for it if you're thinking about it, I definitely hope I get the chance to do it again

 

 

Last year, Phil spent the Ides of March in Rome.  
Clint had commented on it;  _"Fifteenth of March, sir. Think we could catch a reenactment before exfil?"  
__"First let's see if we can manage to get eyes on the target. I'm not making promises I can't keep if we end up chasing her over rooftops."  
__"Yeah, but after that, would you take me to see one when we've finished up?"  
__"Your selective passion for history is continually interesting."  
__"The Romans were cool as shit, sir."_

 

They'd been on a mission, of course. Because that was the only way Phil seemed to travel these days. But the mission had been wrapped up rather quickly - a full eighteen hours before their transport was scheduled to arrive. And since there was no sign of hostiles and resources in the area were a bit tight, Phil and Clint had been told to wait it out. They'd managed to entertain themselves with dinner and a show.

 

Phil  _had_  actually taken Clint to a performance of Shakespeare's  _Julius Caesar_  by a local theater group, which wasn't really a reenactment but it was very nice. And the delight on Clint's face when Phil had told him where they were going - well, frankly, it was breathtaking. He'd still been grinning when they left. Without a word regarding it, they'd begun to aimlessly walk the city streets. The bright lights dispelling the dark sky, the diminished crowds, and shadowed architecture had all been magnificent. They'd soaked it up while having a combination cheeky and intellectual conversation, mostly about the play and Shakespeare, occasionally interrupted to point out something interesting on their path. It took a couple of hours, but they circled back around to their hotel, wrapping up their discussion in time to break off so they could undress and take turns in the bathroom. Phil emerged, teeth freshly brushed and soft pajamas donned, to find Clint sitting on the end of his bed, staring pensively at his hands. He'd asked if Clint was alright, and Clint just nodded, then smiled softly up at him and thanked him for the great evening. Phil had tried to down-play it but Clint just kept that soft smile on and had said something about not really thinking that Phil would take his suggestion seriously. 

Phil had stopped at the foot of his own bed, "You deserve to have nice surprises."  

Clint stared up at him like he'd just started spouting gibberish. Phil stared right back. There was a moment of stillness and then Clint had stood up, slowly, like it was something he'd put thought into, taken a single step to close the distance between the two of them, and then he'd reached out to lay a hand against Phil's chest before he leaning in to press a tentative kiss to Phil's mouth. Phil can still vividly remember closing his eyes and the way Clint's skin had felt under his fingertips when he'd reached up to touch his face.  
It had been so easy to keep kissing - to undress and fall into Clint's bed. It had been less easy later on to separate himself from Clint's warm, panting body in order to clean the two of the up and turn out the light. But crawling back under the covers into his open arms him had made up for it.  
A few hours after that, Phil had awoken to the stubble-burned, dawn-lit face of the man he was half in love with, watching him. A careful handful of kisses on Phil's part had prompted a surprisingly coherent bout of word-vomit from Clint and from there they'd begun to sort themselves out. 

 

Less than a year later, this year,  _today_ , Phil is spending the Fourteenth of February in his office. It's a beautiful winter morning from what he can see out his window. He takes a sip from his "Archers Do It Better" coffee mug, because Phil likes caffeine, and Clint likes to buy him fun mugs. He watches a lady and her dog cross the street. Maybe he'll go on a walk later (maybe he'll go on a walk with  _Clint_ later), but for now he's going to do work, because he's determined to go home on time. It won't be a big deal if he doesn't - he and Clint haven't planned anything for the evening - but it would be nice nonetheless. Clint still deserves nice things. 

Speaking of; the first thing on his agenda is a surprise check-in on the advanced level training courses. One of which happens to be Stealth & Marksmanship, run by a certain Agent Barton for the purposes of bettering SHIELD's reservoir of snipers. If Phil just happens to make it the last stop on his rounds, well, why shouldn't he spend a little extra time there waiting for it to wrap up?

Clint's grin turns soft when he catches sight of Phil at the back of the class, but he keeps talking. Phil is satisfied when all of the students notice and acknowledge him with a "sir," as they exit, even though they're all distracted and he's tucked out of the way and in the shadows. It's always comforting to know that SHIELD really is hiring decent people. 

Clint still has that soft smile on his face when he saunters over to Phil with his bag and bow case all packed up. 

"Don't tell me I'm getting called up to the principal's office," he hefts his bag up over his shoulder.

"No, I'm just playing superintendent; making sure classes are actually being taught, putting the fear of God into subordinates."

"Ah, the usual, then," Clint says, mock-serious.  

"The usual," Phil replies dryly. They step out into the hall together.

"Were you just waiting to steal a moment with me?" Clint asks. 

"I wanted to ask if you'd like to get lunch together. Since you didn't stop by before your class this morning." As if they don't see enough of each other during their intersecting duties or outside of work or at  _home_. 

Clint doesn't answer right away, and his movements hesitate too. Phil slows his stride to stay in step with him. "I wasn't sure if you'd want me around or not, this morning. If I'd just be in the way."

Phil stops and turns to face Clint who takes cue and pauses beside him. "I always want you around," he tells him sincerely. Clint blinks, and Phil wonders if maybe he's not doing a good enough job conveying his sentiments if just that simple statement caught Clint off guard. 

Clint ducks his head, "I just thought you might be too busy or something."

Phil lets a small smile open itself up on his face, "I'll let you know if that's ever the case." He bumps his shoulder into Clint's and the two of them start walking again. "Otherwise, just assume you should make yourself at home the way you've been doing for the better part of the past decade." It hasn't been a problem before. At least, Phil hasn't noticed any change in how frequently or in what ways Clint spends time with him at work since their relationship started. And that's something he pays attention to. He hopes this isn't anything Clint's been worrying about; he looks fine now, anyways. Maybe today is just an off day? 

"So, lunch?" he prompts when Clint continues to just smile at him. 

"Sure, sounds great." His tone is expectant but they're nearing the end of the hall. 

"I'll meet you in the cafeteria at noon, then," he pauses and turns, reaching out to give a soft, lingering squeeze to Clint's elbow, which is about as affectionate as he gets at work. 

Clint smiles, "Not if I meet you there first." Which almost gets an eyeroll out of Phil, except Clint leans in fast to press a kiss to the corner of Phil's mouth. There's not even time to react before he's slipped out of Phil's grip and into the foot-traffic of the main corridor. 

Phil watches after him for a moment, letting the internal voice that encourages warm, fuzzy feelings in relation to Clint, have its say. And then he turns in the opposite direction to head back to his office. 

His morning meetings pass with quick efficiency, partly due to the promise of spending time with Clint (who he's maybe a little worried about), but mostly because he's the one running them and quick efficiency is his trademark. He gets done in time to meet Clint right at 12, and can't help the urge to smile when he spots him across the cafeteria with two trays already on the table. Clint waves at him as he crosses the room. 

"You really do love me," he greets, unbuttoning his blazer and seating himself across from Clint.  

"I couldn't make you suffer through that line when I was already enjoying my food. That'd be cruel and unusual punishment," Clint cuts off his blinding grin by taking a sip from his drink, but the faint blush on his cheeks is still visible. 

Phil doesn't respond, too busy digging in because today they're serving mac'n'cheese which is delicious when it's hot but is questionable at room-temperature. Clint tells him about his morning - a little bragging, some particularly interesting students - while he eats. 

There's a salad on the side, which Phil actually talks between bites of. He asks if Clint's heard from Agent Hand, and Clint tells him about the mission she's just gotten back from. He brings up movies that are coming out and they debate which ones are going to be worth seeing. Clint's sardonic imitations of characters and potential plot events are pretty much the only reason he even talks about or ends up going to the theater instead of waiting for the DVD release. 

When he gets to dessert, Clint's finished his meal and they're hypothesizing about the upcoming season of  _Dog Cops_. 

"I just wish they'd pull Detective Snowball off of her under cover case," Phil says, picking up the heart-shaped cookie with  _'True Love'_  written across it in frosting. He puts it on Clint's tray and adds, "They've been dragging it out and it feels a little tired."

"I dunno," Clint muses, "I kind of like the way they're filling spare time with the Off -" he pauses mid-sentence as he picks up the cookie. 

Phil waits for him, brushing his hands off and wiping his mouth with a napkin, "Clint?"

"The uh, the- the Officer Socks storyline," Clint finishes, toying with the heart.

"He doesn't stand out very much to me. I'm not sure where they're going with it," Phil answers, watching Clint closely and waiting for him to meet his eyes. 

Clint shrugs but keeps his gaze down and locked on the dessert. "He's got heart."

"You just like him because you think he's cute," Phil says, fishing for an open reaction of some kind.

He gets what he was wanting when Clint raises his head. "They're all cute," he argues with a defiant look, finally taking a large and slightly messy bite of his cookie. And Phil thinks he's snapped Clint out of whatever weird daze he'd been in. Only, he continues ducking his head and averting his eyes repeatedly throughout the conversation when Phil's said something innocuous. They both have their insecurities, but this sudden diffidence is rather uncharacteristic. Especially since it's happening in broad daylight at work. 

"He's been ... bashful. All morning," Phil tells Natasha when she's stopped by his office later to update him on some particularly good gossip. 

"You know how he is," Natasha says, "Idealistic. Shy about what he really wants." Her tone is conversational - like they're on the same page and discussing the weather. They're both familiar enough with Clint that it makes sense but Phil really isn't sure what she's specifically referring to. 

"He's really looking forward to tonight," she continues quietly, not looking at Phil. She stands and moves towards the door. "Spending today with you is going to make him very happy," she tells him, an edge of warmth to her voice even if she doesn't look back at him. 

The door closes and Phil allows his expression to collapse, because now he's beyond certain that he's missing something. Their anniversary isn't for another month, but Phil wasn't sure how much Clint would care about celebrating that.

And that's when it hits him.

It wasn't as if he'd completely missed the store displays or the TV ads or the office decorations, but those have all been up since mid-January. And now it's mid-February. It's  _Valentine's Day._  It's Valentine's Day and he's got nothing prepared. Because Phil hadn't expected that Clint would be interested in anything exceptional - anything couple-y, or any sort of romantic holiday celebration. 

All of Clint's behavior today suddenly makes sense.

"Fuck," he says aloud.

The open affection, the cookie - Phil realizes that what he'd thought was diffidence on Clint's part has merely been coyness. Or possibly Clint's bashful reaction to what he's thought is Phil being coy, talking around his plans. Come to think of it, the hesitation to come visit Phil this morning was probably just concern that he'd be interrupting preparations that Phil might have had in the works. 

He goes back over the conversation he's just had with Natasha, which,  _Jesus._ Of  _course_ Clint is a closet romantic. Clint's always been hungry for affection, this is just the next logical step. Maybe this has been building up for a while. He can only imagine what sweet, quiet hopes Clint's got about Phil sweeping him off his feet. 

Phil had assumed that when the day came around, they'd go home to their apartment with takeout and a box of chocolates to eat while they watched a movie before ending the night with some really great sex. Until this morning, Clint has in no way expressed desire for any cliche or traditional gestures. As far as holidays go, there'd been the typical, orphan group Thanksgiving and New Year's celebrations, and the two of them had spent Christmas together because he and Clint and Natasha always spend Christmas together. No part of those celebrations had been different from any other year. So Phil wasn't expecting this particular holiday celebration to be any different - he'd either stay home or go out with friends, both of which Clint would probably join him in doing anyways. Phil stares down at the cold dregs of his coffee mug. 

In retrospect, it seems silly not to have kept track of this. But Valentine's Day has always been one of those occasions that had never really affected Phil. Not in the recent past, certainly. And so maybe his inattentiveness was, in part, Phil trying to keep from getting his own hopes up. Apparently his concerns were unwarranted. Phil sighs and stands, reaching for his mug. Harping on mistakes is not going to do anything, which is why he heads to the breakroom; to get more coffee so that he can start planning. 

Unfortunately, he finds Jasper hogging the machine and throwing a fit in front of the microwave. 

" _Phil_ ," he positively wails as soon as Phil crosses the threshold, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Please step away from the coffee maker, and expound your question if you want me to answer it."

Jasper groans dramatically, "When did February happen-?"

"About two weeks ago around the end of January," Phil interjects as he reaches for the grounds on the top shelf.

"-And more importantly," Jasper moves away from the machine with the prompting of a gentle shove to the upper arm, "why didn't you remind me that Valentine's Day was coming up?"

"Oh, so that demotion to make me your secretary went through after all? The paperwork must not have made it across my desk yet," he deadpans.

Jasper makes a fist and pounds it once against the counter top, "We went Christmas shopping together for our significant others." Phil shoots him a look because they'd done that together when Jasper was panicking and couldn't think of any satisfactory gift ideas. Phil had already had a present bought and wrapped for weeks. Jasper's hand comes up to clutch at his chest, "I thought that gave us a special bond over these sorts of things. I thought it was setting a precedent!"

"And what sort of precedent would that be? Commiserating over domesticity, perhaps? Providing exfils from dates gone wrong?"

"How could you let me forget to plan for this?"

Phil intentionally fails to mention that he hadn't remembered either.   
"Honestly? I thought she'd be the one to take care of it. You're far more high-maintenance than Maria is. I'd assumed that the two of you would have come to the conclusion to let her plan anything special."

Jasper crosses his arms over his chest, "We did," he huffs, "Back in December. Time's just passed too quickly. And I haven't gotten her anything because I didn't know what we were doing and I hadn't really expected it to be a problem."

It's not that Jasper doesn't care. Rather, he struggles with narrowing down gift ideas - he cares too much about what his gifts might or might not say. Thankfully, Maria is aware of this. 

"Take a long lunch and buy her something really nice," he says with a supportive smile and a pat to the shoulder. Jasper takes a deep breath and nods, because obviously Phil is right. Phil knows that this has the potential to be a somewhat amusing anecdote later on, so he's not very worried for his friend. Mostly envious of how little Jasper has to do and how much time he has to do it in. 

He takes his coffee and goes. 

 

After he's refreshed himself with a single, brimming mug, he trims his schedule down to only what's necessary - cutting out extra surprise inspections he'd considered doing as well as potential coffee breaks. Thankfully he doesn't have any meetings this afternoon. So he does his paperwork, and makes his phone calls, and hands off some filing, so that he manages to sneak out of his office at a record-breaking 5:45. Let it never be said that Phil Coulson can't delegate. 

As ridiculous as it feels and seems, Phil actually has to use some of his stealth training to get from his office to the elevators across the floor. If he gets caught now, there will be an endless stream of one person after another vying for his attention before he can exit the premises. But he's a spy; he's great at evasive maneuvers. So he doesn't make eye contact, he doesn't respond to any stimuli, he stays focused on his target and when he manages to snag an arriving elevator, he slips in just before the doors have a chance to close. His fatal mistake, though, is turning around once he's across the threshold; it leaves him with a good four and a half seconds of visuals across the floor. And in those seconds, Fury rounds a corner and locks eyes with him. He stops dead in his tracks and Phil - Phil has the gall to tip his head in acknowledgement before the metal doors meet. He presses the ground-floor button and slides his ID badge to grant himself a nonstop trip instead of thinking about the combination teasing/chewing out that he's in for tomorrow morning. 

The shopping is decidedly more difficult than his exit. Phil would deign to call it a mess. Reservations are out of the question, so he's outlined a do-it-yourself Valentine's Day. He's not surprised by it, but he's one of many men and women doing their last-minute holiday shopping; although he prides himself on looking nothing akin to frantic. He wanders the aisles and only has to stop at three different stores to get everything he needs. 

When he gets home, Phil takes a moment to set all of his stuff down before pulling out his phone.

 

 

**to: Hawkeye**             **sent: 6:43pm  
** think you can be home by 8:30?

 

**from: Hawkeye**       **received: 6:44pm  
** sure thing :)

 

So with just under two hours to cobble everything together, he gets to work. 

He's putting the finishing touches on the bathroom when he hears a knock at the front door. Phil takes a moment to straighten his appearance in the mirror before hurrying to answer, lest Clint get impatient and decide to let himself in. Then Phil smiles to himself, because it is both adorable and appropriate that Clint would wait for him to answer their front door even though it's his home too and he has a key. Likely he doesn't want to intrude on anything Phil isn't ready for him to see yet, since Phil has put himself in charge of the evening, but the layer of pretense feels both silly and a little exciting. 

Phil opens the door to find Clint with his head bowed and with his hands clasped behind his back. He looks up with a smile and runs a hand through his damp hair. 

"Hi," Phil greets, reaching out for Clint's arm because he wants to, and because he can. "You look very nice this evening."

"Thanks," Clint steps forward and leans in for a quick kiss, "I wanted to dress up for you." Phil half expects him to hold both arms out and do a little twirl for him, but he keeps his hands behind him. 

"I appreciate it," Phil tells him, and reaches up to tap the edge of his bow-tie with one finger. Clint's got his sleeves rolled up and he's wearing a dark silvery vest to boot. God, he loves that man in a three-piece.  
Phil's just in his khakis and shirtsleeves, and he's left the top couple of buttons open because Clint has expressed on multiple occasions how much he appreciates the look on Phil.

Clint grins and follows him over the threshold and into the entryway. He takes a moment to toe off his shoes, arms still behind his back, but Phil can pretend to be patient for a few more moments. 

"Can I give you something now?" Clint asks half eager, half teasing. 

Phil holds out his hand and Clint pulls a hand out from behind him, only it's empty and he drops it into Phil's waiting one. Phil looks down at it then up at Clint, raising a questioning brow the barest bit. Clint smacks on a wide, cheesy grin and with a flourish, presents the other hand, bearing a card and bright bouquet of pink and yellow and blue flowers. 

"Clint," he says, dropping their hands to reach for his presents. "They're beautiful," he takes a deep sniff of the bouquet. Clint's shoved his hands in his pockets but keeps smiling at him. He tucks it into the crook of his arm to take a look at the card. It's thick, blue card-stock and it's got two little birds in a curtained windowsill on the front. There's a flowerbox full of three-dimensional flowers below it, and a pull tab on the edge of the card. Phil slips the tab out and the birds slide across the windowsill to meet in the middle and touch beaks like they're kissing. He tucks the tab back in and they slide apart as he opens the card up. A paper owl peeps up at him from the lower half of the page, and there's a bubble of text floating above his head that reads " _Owl always love you_." He runs his fingers over the little character just to feel the ridges in paper where it's been cut and pasted together.

"Did you make this yourself?" he finally tears his eyes away from it to look back up at Clint. He watches as Clint start to shrug but cuts it off in favor of nodding an affirmative to Phil. Phil can tell - can feel the way his own expression melts and his smile goes soft. He leans in and presses a kiss to Clint's cheek. 

"Thank you," he says quietly, staying mostly in Clint's space. "It's perfect. They're both such beautiful gifts. And you're so sweet for giving them to me." He kisses Clint's cheek again but as he's backing up, Clint grabs him by the elbow and reels him back in to press their mouths together. When they break, Clint slides his hand down Phil's bare forearm and tangles their fingers. He takes the bouquet and Phil escorts him into the kitchen. 

"I think there's a vase on the top shelf of the pantry," Phil tells him.

"Yeah, and there's also one in the middle of the linen closet. You just want to watch me stretch." 

"So sue me," Phil says, unabashedly watching him cross the room. He sets the card down in the middle of the table beside one of the candles. Clint's a long line of reaching muscle when he looks up as he's starting to unwrap the flowers from their paper. Clint fills the vase with water and places it between the candles. 

"Have a seat," Phil tells him when he continues to hover as Phil haphazardly arranges the flowers in the vase. Clint does as he's told and Phil starts to serve dinner.

The meal stays quiet with conversation that falls just off rhythm of how their evenings at home normally progress. It isn't until Clint makes a remark about one of Phil's meetings that the tone changes. Clint is grinning at his cleverness and Phil's stifling his own amusement. 

His fork has a full bite on it, but he points it at Clint, "You hush."

Instead of laughing like Phil expects, Clint's grin widens, and he leans forward slowly to take a delicate bite off the fork. He sits back in his chair to chew and swallow, looking smug and scraping together a bite of his own food. For a moment, Phil thinks how unnecessary it is for them to be trading bites this way, but then Clint's offering him the forkful and he's accepting it, and they're feeding each other the remnants of their dinners. 

Clint licks the corners of his mouth as Phil clears their plates and sets them in the sink. He's arced in a long stretch when Phil turns around and it's showy enough to seem like it's meant for Phil's benefit. There's just so much stretching tonight ... 

"C'mon," he urges, holding his hand out and helping Clint stand. "I've got something for you in the other room."

Clint only drags his feet a little, for show - "I didn't get you anything but the flowers," he whines. Phil can tell he's excited to be getting gifts. 

"Well lucky for you, they're presents for both of us, so you can call it even."

"Do I still get to open them?" 

They half-stumble across the living room and Phil smiles and turns to kiss him, "Yes, you still get to open them," he says, and pushes Clint so he falls onto the couch. He crouches down and pulls out two boxes from beneath the coffee table. He turns and sits on the table in front of Clint, handing him the heavier, square one. It's wrapped in shiny, purple paper, and a matching bow - both of which Clint tears into happily. He pulls the lid off the box and takes out, one at a time, two large, red mugs. The sides facing Phil have two halves of a heart, outlined in white - an arrow pierces both halves at an angle and Phil's name is written on one of the halves. He knows there's an identical image facing Clint. 

Clint turns them over in his hands a few times, then looks up at him. Phil reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a white paint pen. 

"They're meant to have my name on one side, and your name on the other, so that there's a heart from either direction and it's got our names together in both."

Clint's smile is soft and pleased as he sets one of the mugs in his lap to take the pen from Phil. He signs both empty halves and sets them on the coffee table to dry. His quiet reaction speaks more to how much he likes them than anything. And Phil is sure to get a noisier show of gratitude tomorrow morning when the mug is full of coffee, even if the noises aren't very intelligible. 

The second package is round and skinny. Phil blushes as he hands it over. Clint doesn't comment on it but he's sure he notices the coloration, even as he tears into the heart-patterned, lilac paper covering the tube. Clint pulls the ribbon off of one end and tears the paper down the seam. 

"Love is art," Clint reads aloud as the wrapper falls to the floor. It's what the tube proclaims on the black and white label. 

"It's a couples' art kit," Phil tells him, watching his face closely for the moment that it clicks. 

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open a little as he looks up and locks eyes with Phil, "Like- ..."

"Like, we paint each other and roll around on a canvas." Phil's probably a little too pleased at how pink Clint's cheeks get, but he won't begrudge himself the satisfaction at how Clint's eyes have lit up.  "Then we hang it up somewhere in the apartment like it's modern art and not a piece of paper we had sex on top of."

"Ho-lee-shit," Clint drawls, a grin spreading wide across his face. 

"I guess you're just supposed to be careful about not getting come and lube all over it," Phil continues, "but-" 

Clint cuts him off by grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him into a kiss. 

"This is so hot, and so  _you_ ," he says against Phil's mouth. 

Phil shuffles forward until he's tucked neatly between the vee of Clint's legs. "I'm glad you like it so much."

Clint holds him close and presses their lips together again. 

"Like, jeez, seriously, this has got to be the classiest, most romantic, sexy-gift I've ever gotten from someone." He reels Phil in, "I cannot fucking wait to try it out with you."

Phil lets the subsequent kiss play out. 

"Maybe-" he pants for a moment, "maybe we give it until tomorrow night?"

"Why?" Clint asks, a sly smile edging onto his features, "Do you have something else planned?"

Phil tamps down his own outward delight, "I'm just wondering if you wouldn't like to move this somewhere a little more comfortable, instead."

Clint backs off, grinning and lets Phil stand then help him up and lead him down the hall.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are from an excerpt of _Julius Caesar_ :
> 
> “There is a tide in the affairs of men  
> Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;  
> Omitted, all the voyage of their life  
> Is bound in shallows and in miseries.  
> On such a full sea are we now afloat;  
> And we must take the current when it serves,  
> Or lose our ventures.”  
> ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar


	2. On to Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~6k of smut and foreplay was not what I had initially planned for this second chapter but I can't say that I'm disappointed with how it turned out

 

 

Phil looks over his shoulder to catch Clint's expression just before he stops in front of the bathroom door. He looks excited and a little shy and Phil marvels at the way the candlelight catches in his pupils as the gap in the doorway opens.

He leads the two of them in, then stops in the middle of the small room and lets Clint look around. His face is open and warm as he takes all the little details in. Phil turns and leans over the mostly-full bath of warm water to take a vial of essential oils and a bottle of bubble bath. He pours them in and turns the water on to fill the basin the rest of the way up. He shakes his arm off and wipes his hand on a towel from the rack as he turns back around to face Clint. He steps closer and reaches out as Clint finishes taking his hearing aids out. Phil takes them from him and presses a kiss to Clint's mouth before leaving to go put them in their bedroom. 

He comes back to find Clint half undressed - his shirt and vest a lump on the floor as he wiggles out of his pants. Phil stares unabashed as Clint straightens up, left only in purple boxer-briefs that cup him beautifully. 

"What?" He juts his hips out and holds his palms upturned and questioning, "Did you think I'd be wearing panties?"

Phil groans for show and smooths a hand over his crotch, "Can't I admire you for two seconds in peace? Must you always make me confront circumstances in which I find you incredibly attractive?" As soon as he's finished the question, he thinks that it was stupid of him to make his comeback needlessly complex when Clint doesn't have his ears. He's doubting how well he enunciated, but Clint's wide smile speaks to the probability that he was able to lip-read Phil's response. 

"C'mere," Clint mumbles, pulling Phil into a kiss by the front of his shirt. They work at each other's mouths and at Phil's clothing until he's naked, leaning into Clint with his hands shoved down the back of Clint's shorts. Clint is the one to back away and step towards the tub. Phil holds onto his hand and helps keep him balanced as he climbs in. He reaches across the width of the tub as Clint settles in, and turns off the faucet with just enough leeway for the two of them to fit without displacing so much water that it spills out. The he takes the bottle of wine and two glasses off of the sink counter and places them on the lip of the tub. He braces himself on the wall as he steps into the water and fits himself around Clint. 

Clint's still wearing a soft smile as he reaches for the wine and then easily pops the cork. Phil holds out both glasses for him and they're filled generously. Phil trades one of the glasses for the bottle and sets it aside before grabbing his final prop: a bowl of candy hearts. Clint's grin widens and he leans forward eagerly to have his pick. Phil sips his wine as Clint sorts his acquired handful. He palms the majority then extends his arm and holds one out to Phil. Phil takes it carefully from him.  _I <3 You, _it reads. Phil reaches for the bowl and takes out a pink one that reads  _Heart of Gold_ , for which he gets in return a blush and an orange one which says  _My Hero_. They continue with this between sips of wine - picking out the good ones to give each other and eating the lame ones themselves, alternately scoffing and smiling. 

Clint finally shakes his head when Phil offers him the bowl and so Phil sets it down on the tile floor outside the tub. Clint sinks down into the bubbles with a sigh. His hands dangle in the water and skim over the tops of Phil's feet. They sweep back and forth and then Clint lets them slip down along the ridged bone lines. He traces waywardly over knobs and dips and curves until he's transitioned into absently massaging Phil's feet. 

Phil leans his head back and slowly finishes his wine. This sort of peace - the two of them sitting on opposite ends of the tub, legs tangled together and companionable silence settling between them - this is something he craves. And getting to have it fills him in a way that almost nothing else does. He shifts to stretch his arm over the edge of the tub and set his glass carefully on the tile floor. Clint's eyes are mostly closed when he finally looks back at him. Phil holds his gaze as he dips his hands into the water and takes a hold of Clint's feet where they're propped against Phil's hips. He digs his thumbs into the soles of Clint's feet, stroking down and circling over his heels. Clint groans, and he shivers as Phil repeats the motion. 

He comes back to himself quickly enough. He blinks heavily at Phil, then squeezes Phil's foot, "You don't have to, you know. I just kind of was."

Phil smiles soft and sly and lifts Clint's leg out of the water to kiss the arch of his foot. Clint sighs and swirls his fingers through the bubbles. 

Phil brings one hand up out of the water.   
"I know you already showered, do you mind this?" he signs as he speaks. 

"No way, this is fantastic." Clint sinks back into the bubbles, "Could we do it again sometime?"

"I think that would be wonderful." It sounds amazing, and Phil wonders why the two of them hadn't done this before because Clint is obviously enamoured with it. This feels like another thing to add to his list of ways that he should be taking better care of his relationship with Clint. He starts to excuse himself, "I know I'm not generally a romantic person-"

Clint interrupts him with a groan, "Ugh, no, don't tell me that. That means that all the shit you do that I think is romantic is just on accident." Phil's trailing his fingers lightly across the sole of Clint's foot which should be unbearable, but since Clint's not ticklish it's probably just sending amazing shivers up his bones. 

"I take you on dates to hockey games and to burger joints that Jasper recommends."

"Oh, God, you really don't realize." Clint drops his head back melodramatically. "You really, really don't realize." Phil waits for Clint to look back up at him so his lips can be read. 

"Tell me then," he goads, rubbing his thumb especially deep into the arch of Clint's foot, "tell me what it is that I do that you think is so romantic."

Clint pauses to think for a moment. "You cook me breakfast a lot," he says decidedly.

"I wouldn't consider it  _a lot_..."

"It seems like a lot."

"You make dinner for both of us whenever we're home." Clint's much better at cooking than he is, and all breakfast foods are pretty easy to make.

"Yeah, but that just makes sense. It's not like I mind doing it." Clint flicks at the water a little, "Plus, you pack me lunch and write me cute little notes sometimes, too. Those make my fuckin' day." Suddenly it seems like a debate that Clint is determined to win. "You make me my favorite kind of coffee every morning."

"I make that for myself and you just steal it," Phil sweeps his hands partway up Clint's calves and back down.

"Then I'm considering it romantic that we both like the same specific kind of coffee." 

Phil smiles, adoring and bemused, instead of responding. Clint's got a look about him like he's on a roll. 

"You shower with me even though it's inconvenient." 

"I like showering with you," Phil objects. 

"Yeah, I like showering with you too but there's a reason we don't do it all the time." He switches from pawing at Phil's shins like he has been, to tracing gently over the backs of his knees. 

"We should," Phil says because he can be a little petulant right now. He goes back to massaging Clint's feet. 

"You let me hold your hand. And you let me do it in public."

Phil gives Clint's foot a squeeze. He knows how much public shows of affection mean to Clint. He likes being able to reassure him because Clint doesn't deserve to doubt their relationship or feel that anyone - much less Phil - might be ashamed of him. It's certainly no skin off Phil's nose to walk around with a handsome man on his arm (even if it's taken him a long time to get comfortable with being able to openly do that; old habits do die hard).

"I like that, too," Phil says, quieter. "It means I get to be close to you. And you have nice hands."

Clint doesn't scoff like Phil thinks he might, but his smile is a little dopey like maybe he thinks Phil is teasing him. "My hands are not 'nice.' They're rough and they're meaty and my fingers are too long."

"So maybe I think that's nice. I'm allowed to have preferences about what sort of hands are my favorite."

"Your favorite, huh?"

"Yeah, my favorite." Phil leans forward on his forearms so he's hunched over and braced against the sides of the tub at the point where their knees meet. 

Clint sighs and repositions himself, "You cuddle with me like all the time."

Phil grins at him, "I really do, don't I?" Clint is so fucking tactile and Phil just eats it right up - it never gets old.

"In bed, in your office, when we're watching a movie, on transports after missions," Clint takes a deep breath. "It's the best thing in the  _world._ "

Phil laughs and leans his head against Clint's knee.

Clint's got his arm slung over the side of the tub and it pushes his shoulder up. Clint's head sags to rest on it and he blinks long and slow at Phil. "You read to me," his voice is so soft when he says it and Phil starts to choke up when he repeats himself; "You read to me, and I love that. I love your voice. It's beautiful. It makes me feel safe and happy." He swallows, and sinks a little further into the water. "That's pretty romantic," he concludes.

"I love reading to you," Phil says once he can manage it. "I love getting to do something nice like that for you. Spending time with you that way. Having you soft and warm beside me, or in my lap, or across my chest. It feels like my favorite way to end the day." 

Clint hoists himself up by the lip of the tub, onto his knees, then wades through the water towards Phil, who sits up a little and opens his arms. Clint sinks into him, sitting in his lap and wrapping himself around Phil, who wraps right back. 

"This is pretty gay," Clint says softly. 

Phil chuckles and feels the breaths bounce off the top of Clint's shoulder, "Yeah," he turns his head just enough to kiss the side of his head and Clint looks up at him, "Yeah, you could say that."

"It's not a bad thing," Clint mumbles speculatively, "But I mean, our dicks are touching..."

"So you just thought you'd point it out?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Are you interested in making it even more gay?"

"I could be persuaded," he leans back. 

Phil loops his arms around his waist, "I can give you a full body massage, if you want. I bought a new bottle of oil." 

Clint smiles down at him, "I was thinking about doing the same thing." He falls back in to lock their mouths together. Phil can't bring himself to pull away. It's Clint who breaks the kiss.

"Take me to bed and fuck me," he demands breathlessly. And who is Phil to deny him?

They stand together and try toweling each other off, before Phil takes charge and gets Clint suitably dried, then shoos him into the bedroom. He flips the drain to empty the tub, corks the wine, and blows out all the candles before following as he finishes drying himself. 

He finds Clint standing just inside the doorway. Which, maybe he could have expected. It is rather a sight to behold if Phil does say so himself. The room is bathed in a beautiful orange glow, courtesy of the dozens of candles on every available surface. There are rose petals on the mattress and in a small ring on the floor around the bed. Soft instrumental music plays in the background - Phil hadn't been sure under what circumstances they'd make it back to their room but it sets the mood for him if nothing else. 

He slips his arms around Clint's torso and presses his lips to the side of Clint's neck, "Do you like it?"

Clint swallows audibly and nods. Slowly, he breaks free of Phil's grip and crosses over to the bed. He runs his fingers back and forth through the layer of soft petals, then sinks down onto the edge. He scans the room again, obviously soaking it in since Phil has no doubt that he'd already noted every detail upon initially entering. 

"Where'd you put my aids?"

"Bedside drawer. You sure you want them in?"

Clint only faces him long enough to read his lips, then he's stretching across the bed on his stomach, "Yeah, just remind me about them before I pass out."

Phil gives the towel one more pass behind the back of his head, then he tosses it towards the bathroom and climbs up on the bed to crawl over Clint. Phil's sudden presence has Clint turning on his side as he finishes slotting his aids into place.  

Phil presses a kiss behind Clint's jaw, "All set?" he whispers. Clint rolls all the way onto his back and nods, reaching up to wrap an arm around Phil's back and tangle a hand in his hair. 

Whenever Clint will let him, Phil tries to sneak a moment to just appreciate where they're at. It's not that Clint doesn't like contemplating their relationship - Phil would bet that Clint thinks about it as much if not more than he does himself. It's more that Clint has a harder time thinking about enjoying things when he could actually be enjoying them. They've had a few choked conversations where Clint's opened up about not getting to keep the things he likes, much less  _loves_ , and each iteration has broken Phil's heart just a little. But he thinks that maybe he can ease Clint into letting them, together, be an exception to the rule. 

This is one of those moments where he tries to do just that. 

Phil's hand splays across Clint's chest and slides down the smooth stretch of torso beneath him. Clint rolls into the touch like a well-trained cat. Phil makes a low sound of admiration as his hand wraps around Clint's width. 

"You know," Phil tells Clint as he slowly starts jerking him off, "I didn't .... actually have any of this planned, or even conceptualized at the start of this morning." 

Clint looks up at him with wide eyes and his hands tighten around Phil's biceps, "You did all of this at the last minute for me?" he asks, wonder and adoration in his voice. 

And Jesus Christ; only Clint would hear a confession of carelessness and extract the sort of heroic dedication that Phil wishes and strives to put into their relationship. Phil's new life goal needs to be raising and surpassing Clint's standards. 

"I shouldn't - ah - I shouldn't be surprised," Clint continues, "At all. This is  _you_  we're talking about, after all."

"Mmmm," Phil hums noncommittally, biding his time for apologies and hoping that his actions will convey more than his words. And with that thought at the forefront of his mind, Phil reaches for a pillow to slip underneath the pert ass and sharp hips he adores so much. He sits back on his haunches, fingers sunk into meaty thighs and admires the fucked out look Clint's just starting to get about himself. Both their motions are a little sloppy from the wine. Phil revels for a moment, taking pride in the environment he's created for them and how beautifully they've both relaxed. Clint bites and slowly rolls his lip. Phil gives a squeeze to the handfuls of muscle he's got a hold of and slides his hands downward. 

He spreads Clint's ass apart and leans down, tongue lolling obscenely for Clint's benefit. He's gifted with a lovely little gasp but doesn't stop for anything until his mouth is pressing against Clint's hole. Then there's that first moment of tension, where Clint's too excited to relax and Phil has to curb his own enthusiasm long enough to work Clint up to the real fun. He strokes with the flat of his tongue in a wide, slow stripe. It takes more than a few repetitions before there's any semblance of give in Clint's muscle. That's okay - they've got all night. He's got a jaw of steel and has long since mastered the art of bringing someone to orgasm with his tongue alone. Besides that, it's more fun when there's a delayed sense of gratification. Burying his face between Clint's legs is one of Phil's absolute favorite activities. And when Clint's in the mood for it, it gets the both of them going like nothing else. 

Phil loses himself in the press and slide of his tongue amidst the heat and smell of Clint all around him. He prods with his nose and the point of his tongue, he teases with the barest hint of his teeth, he tickles the delicate skin high on Clint's inner thighs with his fingers. Clint's shivering by the time he's stretched and wet enough for Phil to push the tip of his thumb in too. Clint moans softly and rolls downward onto the two points of friction. Phil spreads his jaw wide and pushes further in for the final stretch. The hitched breathing and tighter grip on his neck signal that the end is in sight. He keeps his tongue spread wide inside of Clint, swirling it and pushing more saliva inside but withdrawing his thumb. He comes back with his middle finger and presses inside until he's found Clint's prostate. Clint jumps a little and then Phil goes at it with matching rhythm from the outside and the inside and Clint jumps a lot. He circles it in mirrored motions and rocks it back and forth between his fingers, pressing with his nose, too, and with a few more strokes of Phil's tongue, Clint is tensing up and coming all over himself. Phil works him through it until Clint's cock and thighs are both twitching weakly. Phil draws back slowly to stretch the mood of the moment. Clint lies with his legs splayed lewdly - a good rimming always turns his bones to jelly. Phil slinks back up the length of his body. 

"I very much want to kiss you again," he tells him, nosing along his sternum and up his throat, "You good for a minute while I go brush my teeth?"

Clint nods and Phil manages to tear himself away to get up and cross the room with the logic that the quicker he can do this, the quicker he can get back to doing what he loves. 

When he re-enters, Clint's staring up at the ceiling, arms tossed and crossed above his head, a dopey expression painting his face. Phil's chest tightens and he has to keep himself from rushing across the room because he doesn't want to spoil the atmosphere or startle Clint.  
He kneels carefully on the edge of the bed and crawls over top of Clint with purposed grace. He braces his forearms beside Clint's head as Clint curls up underneath him. 

"I want you so bad," Phil tells him, dropping his head until their foreheads and noses touch. 

"You have me," Clint says a little breathlessly as one of his hands comes up to brace against the crown of Phil's head, "I'm here." Phil kisses his nose and his cheek and down the length of his throat. 

"And I still want you so much - like I'm never gonna be as close as I want or be able to have enough of you," Phil's breath rushes in the tight space between his mouth and the crook of Clint's neck and their sheets. Clint whimpers and tightens his grip around Phil. 

"I'm right here," Clint assures him again, "You can have all of me." Clint reaches up for one of his hands and guides it down his body to his hole. Phil slips the tip of his first finger into the entrance as Clint fumbles around on the sheets for the lube. 

"I can't believe how lucky I am," Phil tells him once is fingers are wet and he's pushing back in. "Can't believe I get to be with you like this." Clint's breath hitches as he scissors his fingers wide. "Sometimes I still can't believe you want me as much as I want you."

"More," Clint insists, and for a moment Phil thinks he's asking for another finger inside him. "I want you more."

"Impossible," Phil murmurs low and hot beside Clint's ear. "That's not possible. I will tolerate equality, but I won't stand for being out-measured. I crave you too much to believe that there's a higher standard to be held to." Clint squirms as Phil curls his fingers. "It's hard enough to accept that you actually meet me in this."

"I do, though, I want you so much," Clint whines. 

"And I believe you. I trust your word. It's just ... it's an incredible thing." He starts to play at Clint's prostate. "It's more than a gift, or a blessing ..." Clint gasps and Phil nuzzles against him, "... it's a goddam miracle." Clint whimpers again and Phil kisses him, then breaks off to laugh softly at himself, "You've turned me into such a sap."

Clint tucks his face into Phil's neck, "And you don't think you're romantic," he mumbles. 

Phil kisses the side of Clint's head and slides down the length of his body until he can get his mouth on Clint's cock. Clint's grip holds fast to his shoulders and the back of his neck. His tongue's a little tired, but Phil thinks that he can let the heat and wet of his mouth do most of the work and make up for any lacking with his fingers. Clint whimpers at first, still a little sensitive but Phil knows just how much he likes to ride that line of pleasure-pain, and soon he's relaxed and sighing like a puppy napping in the sunshine. It'll take him a while to get back to the point where he can orgasm but that just leaves Phil with plenty of time to get him as wet and loose as he wants. 

It's so satisfying when he can finally sink three fingers into Clint and have them immediately sucked into the wet warmth. He enjoys a few slow, hard strokes before pulling away. Clint sucks in a hard breath and Phil watches his hole flutter as he rolls a condom on himself. He brushes aside some rose petals and wipes his fingers on the sheet before laying a gentle hand to Clint's stomach. With the other, he parts Clint's thighs and re-settles himself between them. 

"You ready?" Phil asks softly.

Clint rolls his hips - the very picture of obscenity with his legs parted so widely and his arms stretched above him. "Give it to me," he sweetly commands. 

Phil smiles and leans in for a kiss as he lines himself up. One good roll of his hips sinks him all the way in, in one go. He groans and Clint sighs in tandem. Phil braces the thigh hitched over his hip as he settles inside Clint and just holds still. Clint's arms come up to wrap around his back as Phil nuzzles against him. 

"I want to be this close to you all the time," Clint whispers and it shakes a full-body shiver from Phil. 

"So do I," he whispers back. "God, I don't ever want to let go of you," he breathes, slipping an arm under the small of Clint's back. He pumps his hips once, and  _Jesus_ , it's gratifying after being so hard for so long. Clint takes a moment to clench down on him over and over - he's expressed multiple times just how much he loves being full that way. Phil knows the appeal, and is more than happy to lie there and indulge him. He groans and flexes his hand; feels a finger slip into one of the dimples above Clint's ass. Clint rocks against him - the meat of his ass rubs sweetly against Phil's pelvis and groin and his dick wiggles and slips between their bellies.  
He pushes in and out again, halting when Clint clenches around him, and they repeat the cycle until there's no pause in between. Phil's pace is slow; his hips roll continuously with a steady rhythm and careful precision. 

" _Phil_ ," Clint sighs, like he's melting and his world is all the better for it. 

And Phil knows how to read him like a book. "Clint, sweetheart," he pants quietly in the space between Clint's ear and the mattress, keeping their temples pressed together. Clint nods, their cheekbones brushing with the movement, and Phil pictures the way he knows Clint's mouth is pursed and his eyes are probably scrunched shut right now - the only tense part of him aside from where his arms are locked around Phil. 

Clint lifts his other leg and wraps both of them vice-like around Phil's waist and holds on for dear life as Phil takes his cue and starts pounding into him. Now that he isn't holding Clint's leg wrapped around him, Phil slips his free hand up and underneath Clint to brace against the wide span of his shoulder blade. He cradles Clint tight against his body and curls inward for just the right leverage.

God, sometimes moments like this make Phil so aware of his own mortality - the fragility of life. But they never, never fail to make him feel impossibly alive. 

He fights for the soft noises of pleasure Clint makes when he gets works him just right, chasing breathless whimpers with every thrust. He doesn't remember hitting his endorphin high but he can feel the blood rushing in his veins, and Clint's heavy heartbeat against his chest tattooing a mirror to his own, and he's in love with the way their sweat-slick bodies are slipping against each other -

He crests the wave and comes, groaning and gritting his teeth to keep from flying away as he frantically pumps into Clint, riding it out. Clint's wide hand sweeps up and down his back and Phil can't wait to get his mouth back on him as soon as he's got control of himself again. He groans again and shudders through an aftershock. Clint works him through it, firm muscles undulating against the still body above him. 

Phil tries to pull away when he feels his orgasm subside but Clint whines unhappily and tightens his arms and legs around him. So Phil stays where he is and lets Clint milk his hard-but-softening cock - cooing at him and peppering his face and neck with kisses - until it becomes to much and he needs to pull out. Clint positively writhes when he's left empty, but Phil is quick to tie off the condom and sink two fingers inside of him. He leans over Clint's waist, thigh muscles protesting as he crunches them beneath him, and takes Clint's dick into his mouth. Clint bucks up and it's only a hasty forearm thrown across his waist that saves Phil's sore mouth any extra ache. 

When he's already this close, Clint likes it fast and wet, but that doesn't mean Phil is ever careless about it. He cups his tongue around the thick vein and drags it up to the head, lapping at it before taking it back into his mouth as far as it will go. He hollows his cheeks and sucks hard just as he finds Clint's prostate again. Clint shouts then gasps when he does it again. He pulls back slowly then pushes down twice as fast twisting his tongue around the shape of what he can get his lips around. The soft wet skin on Clint's outside feels so much different than the soft wet skin on his insides. Phil considers the endless list of inane details he's forever going to be cataloging about Clint Barton and can't even bring himself to be embarrassed; Clint deserves an enormous amount of consideration. 

He digs the point of his tongue into the nerve just below Clint's head and then several times into his slit, in time with the assault he's laying to Clint's prostate. Clint's hips jerk minutely down then up and then there's a moment of stillness before his thighs start to quake. His hands splay then fist tightly into the bedsheets as his back lifts in a perfect arc and he comes down Phil's throat. 

Phil sucks and swallows until Clint's stopped shaking. He pulls off and collapses on Clint's legs instead of waiting for his arms to give out on their own. He swallows hard as Clint pants like a wild thing. Phil presses a kiss to Clint's thigh and tries floating back to reality. 

Slowly, Phil frowns to himself. 

"I was going to buy you chocolates," he murmurs thoughtfully. 

"Mmm?" Clint hums sleepily. 

"Chocolates. My original plan was to buy you take out and chocolates and then have fantastic sex."

"Consider me a satisfied customer," Phil can hear the smile in his voice. "We can buy discount candy tomorrow." He flinches as Phil busses the crease of his groin. 

"Well that's a better reaction than I'd hoped for."

"Did you think I'd be mad?"

"Hurt, at the very least." Phil drops a kiss to each hip, "I'd had a general plan in mind, but certainly nothing as nice or orchestrated as this evening's been. Much simpler. More mundane. And I did, actually forget the holiday itself. Which I feel bad about."

Clint tugs on his arm and Phil scoots up until he's hovering over Clint, "You have more than made up for it. Today was a good day, and I got to spend a pretty big chunk of it with you, which makes it even better." 

Phil sinks down for a searing kiss, erasing the gap between their bodies. Clint tips his head back until Phil attends to the sensitive skin of his throat, and it devolves into the two of them rubbing against each other gently like cats.

"I didn't get you a card, either," Phil interrupts, muffled where his mouth is still too close to bare flesh. "Or make you one, for that matter - because it didn't really cross my mind as a real option." Clint hums absently. "I can make a mean strand of paper snowflakes, but that's about it. Arts and crafts aren't my strength." Clint giggles at him and Phil nuzzles at the skin in front of his nose, "I would have tried if I'd known you would be making me such a wonderful one, though."

"I'm sure you'll be as successful as you are at everything else you put your hand to. We'll get you a Pinterest account though, if you're worried."

"I've got a whole month before our anniversary. The card I come up with is going to blow you away," he punctuates his sentence with a kiss. 

Clint's grin is blinding and he butts his head gently against Phil's face, "I really like when you talk about our future like it's a sure thing."  
Phil's heart stutters in his chest a little and he kisses the rosy blush coloring Clint's cheeks. When he pulls back, Clint meets his gaze head on, "But I'd rather you get Fury to give us the weekend off." 

Phil drops a kiss to the tip of Clint's nose, "Would you believe me if I told you that the request has been in since we made it to the six month mark?"

Clint bites his lip but his smile slips free, "Yeah."

Phil grins down at him, "I would've done it even sooner than that, but I don't like setting my hopes too high."

"Despite your ridiculous levels of self-confidence."

Phil nods, "Despite my ridiculous levels of confidence," he kisses Clint's forehead, "in myself," he plants a second kiss to Clint's cheek, "and in us."

"Ugh, you're too much," Clint tugs him down until their foreheads and chests are pressed together. 

"I haven't booked the plane tickets to Rome yet; I wanted to see if you'd rather do something else instead." 

"That doesn't help with the you being too much thing," Clint reaches up to knuckle Phil's cheek. 

"I can't say that I'm sorry," Phil tells him with a smile.

"Jeez, go ahead and book the flight. I'm gonna spontaneously combust from all this blushing if you keep it up."

Phil turns his head to kiss Clint's departing fingers, "Don't pretend you yourself aren't unbearably charming."

Clint laughs outright at that. Phil has to squirm a little to keep his balance atop him which only makes Clint keep laughing. Finally he sighs, "I'm too tired to keep bantering with you about this." 

"Oh, good. I was starting to worry that I hadn't done my job and worn you out."

"Christ, if that were your job-"

Phil cuts him off with a searing kiss. He draws away and Clint blinks up at him with a beautiful, dazed expression. His pupils are blown too wide and he blinks again, slowly. Phil kisses his cheekbone, "Take your ears out."

Clint grumbles unintelligibly but does as Phil suggests. Phil holds his hand outstretched and Clint gives them to him to put in the de-humidifier. He gets up to blow out the candles and then carefully makes his way back to the bed once the lights are all out. Clint reaches out to wrap him up in his arms and Phil snuggles up against him. 

"I know you're already thinking about our anniversary," Clint mumbles quietly, "But try to get some sleep."

Phil smiles against Clint's shoulder and the dark of their room, "Goodnight, Clint."

"Happy Valentines Day, Phil."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Phil and Clint are definitely the type of couple to argue sometimes over who loves the other more. That's just a fact.
> 
>  
> 
> Now with the [body art kit sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208288)!

**Author's Note:**

> You've reached the end of the line. Thank you for joining me on another tour of the Marvel Universe. Your attention, in addition to kudos and comments, is appreciated. Please exit safely, and mind the gap.  
> You can find me on tumblr at my [ Marvel blog](mrwonderwoman.tumblr.com).
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled because it looks like maybe i'm going to end up writing out the two of them using the body art kit
> 
> So whoever prompted this was probably looking for more of a mess, and I'm sorry but I'd only thought of that after I'd started on this. I wanted Phil to be the one to forget but I also wanted his patented brand of competency. So if anyone else wants to try their hand at this prompt, I would welcome it (and also ask that you link me in a comment here or something so that I can read it, too! :D )
> 
>  **If you liked this story you may also like:**  
> [Sex with Your One True Love is a Totally Legitimate Birthday Present](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4066729) by [Pegasus_Eridana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana)  
> [All Is Well That Ends Well](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9766457) by [varjohaltija](http://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/pseuds/varjohaltija)  
> [Hideaway](http://archiveofourown.org/works/938514/chapters/1828390) by [AdamantSteve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve) (I totally stole the "Archers Do It Better" mug idea from this fic bc I _love_ it)  
> [Of Gift Giving and Getting it Right](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4603683) by [Westgate (Harkpad)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate)  
> [Love Potion Not Included](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3398207) by [orderlychaos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos)  
>   
>   
>  Struggling with gift ideas? Trying to impress a significant other? You _too_ can be the proud owner of the very same gifts Phil got for Clint.  
> [ **Half Heart Square Red Mug Set - $29.99**](https://www.gifts.com/product/Half-Heart-Square-Red-Mug-Set-30046673?trackingpgroup=gvdakpv&sk=&ref=GFTorganicgglunkwn&prid=gftseogu&productgroup=gvdakpv&viewPos=75)  
> [ **Love Is Art Kit - $36.00 ******](https://www.uncommongoods.com/product/love-is-art-kit) ** ******  
>  _Express your love through abstract expressionism with this bold idea for making one-of-a-kind art._


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